


Roses

by snowshus



Category: Original Work
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Injury, Loyalty, M/M, Marriage, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Scars, Touch-Starved, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-06
Updated: 2020-08-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:14:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25743409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snowshus/pseuds/snowshus
Summary: The first thing the invaders had done was burn the Western Woods.
Relationships: Jaded Warrior King/Charming Prince who is his Betrothed
Comments: 9
Kudos: 56
Collections: Battleship 2020, Battleship 2020 - Yellow Team





	Roses

**Author's Note:**

  * For [StormyDaze](https://archiveofourown.org/users/StormyDaze/gifts).



> thanks to both Gammarad and Ba_lailah for reading this over for me!

Silas knew not to expect too much from this marriage. Alan had always been fond of beautiful things, ever since they were children and Silas's father had first brought him to meet the neighboring royal families, Alan would delight in showing off some bright shiny new thing to him. Silas was never going to be someone people thought of as beautiful. He’d been plain as a child and plain as a young man and the invasion of his kingdom had not done anything to improve his appearance. His father had, of course, carried the scars of his rule. An unexpected long freeze had turned two of his toes black for ten years and the expansion of the capital city into some of woodland had brought long spindly lines over his heart. Land cleared for farming left short even patches across his back that came and went as fallow fields returned to wild land. Scars were the way of The Green. The Blue King wasted away when there was drought and the White Queen grew ill when the air turned sour, but in The Green the death of the trees left their scars. 

The first thing the invaders had done was burn the Western Woods. All of it. It had left twisted knotted scars all across Silas's back. As they advanced across his kingdom they destroyed everything in their path: they pulled up every sapling and torched every copse. The scars grew across Silas's body as his land burned and his people fled eastward. He’d lost his eye the normal way, to a knife in a battle they’d lost. He’d watched from the hospital tent with his one remaining eye as the oaks that had been alive since the kingdom had been founded burned to nothing. The fire had scorched down his arms, new scars for each of his failures. 

He’d sent word to the other kingdoms, to his father’s allies to beg for assistance as his army was routed and driven back. The only one to respond was the Grey. The price for their assistance had been heavy, the reduction of tariffs and promise of repayment both monetarily and in future favors had been given but perhaps the heaviest price of all was the marriage stipulation. Silas had no idea what Alan might have done to warrant such punishment as being sent to marry a king who might not have a kingdom much longer. He could only imagine how quickly he must have needed to be sent away for her to throw him at the first man who couldn’t say no. He’d never liked court gossip or the game of favors court life entailed. Besides, being at war for a year had kept him well away from it. He wished, briefly, that he was more familiar with latest gossip so he might know what trouble he was marrying, but in the end it didn’t matter. Silas had needed those soldiers. He needed them more than he cared what Alan had been up to in the years since they had known each other. He needed them more than any pride or chance for love. He had hoped one day to…it didn’t matter. His people needed him to take what was offered. They were hungry and tired and losing more of their homes everyday. He would gladly sacrifice his own hopes of happiness for them. He would, it turns out, gladly sacrifice someone else's as well.

Alan had arrived with his mother’s army and little else: no entourage of courtiers, no train of luggage and a thousand servants, no fuss and no frivolity, just the soldiers Silas had been promised and himself. Though they had not seen each other since his father’s funeral, he could still easily pick Alan out of retinue. Alan was as beautiful as Silas remembered. His face looked like he had been carved by a master sculptor, flawless and smooth, and his pale green eyes shone with a quiet cleverness, and oh gods was he clever. Within the first month of his stay he’d charmed nearly all the scholars in the city. They’d seek him out for debates on philosophy and art, and he always listened carefully and asked the sort of insightful questions that made the scientists and historians light up. 

It wasn’t just the scholars who were charmed by him. He always seemed to know exactly what to say to lighten a discussion, to assuage rumbled feathers, to turn insult into jest. It did not take long for Alan's popularity to eclipse Silas's. It wasn’t hard either. Silas was respected, but he was not a very likable person even before everything had started. He’d been too quiet, too humourless, too forgetful of the Earl’s second cousin’s daughter’s best friend’s birthday. Alan was very good at all of that, particularly the birthdays of the Earl’s daughters. 

Silas assumed he'd found a lover among the nobles or the scholars - someone beautiful and smart with whom he shared a bed and witty conversation when not obligated to be seen sharing one with Silas. They’d never actually shared a bed in that way. Silas had no interest in taking something not freely given. On those rare nights when appearances must, they slept on opposite ends of the bed. Alan had made the proper overtures on their wedding night, had stepped into the bubble of Silas's space and laid a soft hand on the blue silk of Silas's wedding clothes. His long fingers had pressed against the ridge of a scar Silas had received at the loss of the forest above the Ivy River.

Silas had carefully stepped away, out of reach of that hand. 

“There’s no need. As this is merely a political arrangement, I see no reason to force ourselves. You are free to take other lovers as you wish, though I ask you to attempt discretion for propriety's sake.”

“Of course,” Alan had nodded, letting his hand drop back to his side. That was the end of that discussion. Silas had expected that to be the end of most of their interactions, honestly. Alan was not here by choice and while a court at war was not the happiest place there were enough diversions that he should be able to enjoy himself as he wished. Silas would attempt to provide him whatever he wished. Which was the best Silas could offer in the circumstances. 

Alan had surprised him by appearing in the war room the morning after their wedding. 

“They are my countrymen you are deploying. I think I should be here to represent them,” Alan had announced when he’d taken his seat at the war council. He didn’t have much to add as far as strategy, only asked for justification or explanation for the more dangerous or costly plans. It was helpful sometimes, annoying naive others. Still, that he would spend his time in a war council rather than literally anywhere else was a surprise. He did not ride to the front with Silas when the war took him away, but Silas wouldn’t have allowed it anyways. Should anything happen to Silas, someone needed to hold the throne until Silas’ young cousin was of age. He’d found he could no longer think of anyone more suited to that responsibility than Alan. 

In the fifth month of their marriage Alan had begun travelling, sometimes just around the parts of the country that weren't being threatened and sometimes to The Blue or the Yellow or one of the other kingdoms for a few days. He always took guards with him and he always planned his routes to avoid anywhere the enemy could be. After the first few trips Silas had stopped paying much attention. He trusted Alan to be careful and he saw no reason to police his comings and goings. He had more important things to occupy his attention. He was surprised when Alan returned from one such trip to somewhere Silas had already forgotten with a bright smile and handed a roll of parchment to Silas. 

Silas's eyes widened as he read it. It was an agreement, a promise from the Blue, who had refused to respond to all of Silas's previous pleas for help. It granted them relief in the form of grain and fish to feed their soldiers and refugees as well as an interest free loan on the weapons they desperately needed more of.

“What did you promise to get this?” He asked, almost afraid to hear the answer. 

“We will be attending my family’s Summer Ball and I will make an introduction between Princess Liore and my sister.” Alan bounced a little on his feet, excited to share how he’d managed such a feat. “It so happens that Leelee is exactly Ro's type and well the fifth daughter of a small kingdom like The Blue might not be able to secure a very good marriage, all things considered. The favored mistress to the future queen of The Grey will give her and her family a great deal of influence over one of the most powerful women in the world. Getting to _that_ position of course depends entirely on Leelee but getting the opportunity at all is worth a great deal.” He smiled, clearly proud of his accomplishment. Silas was amazed. It was so much for such a little thing as an introduction.

“Thank you,” was all he managed to say.

“It was my pleasure.” Alan ducked his head. “Just glad to be of some service to you.”

“You’ve been a great service to me. I-your mother’s assistance and now this. We might actually be able to recover the borders with this. You’ve been far more help than I could have hoped for.”

“I could be more.” Alan pressed his hand to the door frame. “Anything you need, anything you want. You need only ask for it.”

“I couldn’t ask more of you than you’ve already given. It’s...it is more than enough. More than...thank you.” 

Alan nodded and returned to his own rooms.

Their replenished army pushed the invaders back to the edges of the Western Woods by the end of the spring. One final push should secure the borders and his generals had assured him they could handle it. Silas did not feel particularly right going to the Summer Ball while the war continued and his people struggled to rebuild their lives. However, Alan's promise of their attendance was the reason his people are able to rebuild at all. So he girded his loins as he would before any battle and prepared for a weekend of meaningless conversation and tedious dancing all so two women might meet. 

He’d always hated the Summer Ball. The Marble Palace where it was held had been an intimidatingly large building when Silas had been a child. Legend had it, the first Grey Queen had it carved from a single living stone and the process had left the floor plan etched into her skin. The Grey were harder to scar, but their scars ran deeper and lasted longer than the ebbing flow of scarring and healing that was the usual manner of Silas’ family. He’d always found the legend a little terrifying and little unbelievable. It was hard to imagine such a magnificently large building being constructed that way, but Silas had never been able to find a seam in the white stones with their swirling grey imperfections. 

When Silas had been a young boy, the only bright spot in coming to The Grey had been Alan. Back then they’d always managed to slip away from the adults. Alan would take him around the garden, showing off the most beautiful flowers or sculptures. The last Summer Ball Silas had attended, Alan had still had the traditional silver of youth braided through his dark hair. He’d wanted to show Silas a tapestry, some carefully woven scene of an idyllic countryside. There had been gold and silver threads spun throughout and small diamonds and gems glittering in the light of the fire. 

“Isn’t it beautiful?” Alan had sighed wistfully. “Don’t you just love looking at something so beautiful.”

Silas vaguely remembered agreeing but he’d been looking at Alan that whole night. The year after that, Alan would have switched from the silver braids to the gold of adulthood and there would have been no more sneaking away, even if Silas had attended. He’d been busy that year and he’d always hated the Summer Ball, so he hadn’t gone, nor the next year, and so on. 

There would be no sneaking away this year, either. They were no longer princes with the freedom to act rudely. This was an important event for Silas to gain support and assistance as the rebuilding began. He would be relying on Alan to do much of that work. The thought left a sour taste in his mouth. He should be able to do it on his own. He shouldn’t be relying on Alan so much, but Alan had managed to get help where Silas had so often failed. As he thought when he agreed to this marriage in the first place, his pride was an easy sacrifice to make for his country. If Alan could succeed where Silas had failed, he would not get in the way.

They arrived at the Marble Palace earlier than most of the other guests by Her Majesty’s request. Alan had not been home since the marriage and almost immediately he was swept away by Princess Rochelle. They disappeared to whatever secret conference siblings have. Silas had been an only child, and could not imagine what such meetings held. They left Silas alone to wait in their room until the Ball.

He was surprised when he saw Alan in the great ballroom and he did not have the gold twists decorating his hair as The Queen and Princess did, nor was he wearing the bright glittery colors customary of the Grey. Instead he was wearing the softer, warmer muted colors traditional to The Green. They dulled him a little. The lack of bright contrast with his dark skin lessened its usual glow. He looked almost plain next to his sister with her brilliant red tulle dress. The gentle deep greens highlighted how bright and pale the green in Alan’s eyes was, though. He was still the most beautiful man Silas had ever seen. He might not really be suited for the colors of Silas's family but for entirely personal reasons Silas liked him better in them. He might never have Alan in the way he’d once hoped to, before the union had been forced on them, but like this he could imagine Alan was truly his. 

He watched as Alan deftly maneuvered himself and his sister to “organically” cross the path of Princess Liore of The Blue. He watched the way Alan made the introduction he promised for political purpose seem like a fortuitous meeting between friends. He watched as Alan eased the conversation between them and slid away without notice.

“He’s very good at that, isn’t he?” the Queen said from behind him. Silas did not whirl around or jump or any of the other reactions that he really wanted to. Instead he calmly turned to face her.

“Yes, he’s...he’s quite brilliant, really.”

“I know. I knew I’d lose him one day but I had hoped to keep him a little longer.”

“What do you mean, you sent him to me as part of the conditions for your support?”

“Well he did insist, and as you’ve probably figured out by now whatever Alan wants he finds a way to get. Most of the time he can convince you he’s the one doing you the favor by the time you're agreeing.”

“I, yes.” Silas nodded, he’d not noticed at the time but that did seem to describe a lot of their interactions. “I--he wanted to come?”

“Of course he did, I’d never marry off my children without their consent. I know The Grey has a reputation for being cold, but we’re not that cruel.”

“Of course. I didn’t mean-I’m sorry, I never meant to imply-”

The Queen watched him stumble for a diplomatic way not to say that was exactly what he’d thought. 

“Alan looks tired.” She finally granted him mercy. “I understand you’ve been at war, but I expect next year to see him looking much happier.”

“Yes, of course.”

“Good.” The Queen nodded and moved on, presumably to torture someone else.

Silas only got a moment to try and process what she’d told him and what that really meant before Alan found him.

“Come dance with me,” he said, wrapping a warm hand around Silas's wrist. Silas's whole attention suddenly focused on that touch. He hadn’t let anyone touch him since the war had started. He’d been busy and in pain and then even more busy and it had just stopped happening. Now the warmth of another person’s hand on his skin nearly drove all else from his head. He could feel the slight dampness of sweat from the warm evening, and the calluses on the inner curve of the index finger usually only found on scholars. It would have been enough to stop him from anyone but that it was Alan nearly brought him to his knees. It took a moment to remember the request that had brought those fingers to his wrist. 

“I don’t really dance.”

“Please, for me? I’m at this beautiful ball and I want to dance and you are my husband which means you are obligated to dance with me at least once.”

“I don’t think that’s quite true.”

“I know, but it would help secure this relationship I’m trying to build with The White if you looked like you actually liked me.”

“I do like you. I-” Silas caught himself before blurting out _I love you._ “I appreciate you a great deal.”

“I know,” Alan squeezed his wrist comfortingly. “But the White can’t hear this conversation, they will however be able to see that Silas of The Green, who notoriously hates dancing, is indulging his beloved husband. So, please?”

“I guess…” Silas gave in as Alan pulled him onto the dance floor. He let Alan move him how he wanted. Silas was not lying about not dancing. He’d been terrible at it as a boy and made a point of not practicing as an adult so now he was stiff and awkward following Alan’s lead. Alan didn’t seem to mind though, just smiling and directing Silas with his words and his body. All the while Silas was acutely aware of the weight of his hand on Silas's hip and the press of their palms together. 

“Do they hurt?” Alan asked as his thumb brushed over the edge of a scar that had burned down to his fingers. 

“Not after they’re made,” Silas answered. “They can be a little stiff sometimes but they’ll fade eventually. Once we retake the borders and can begin replanting they’ll start to heal, though I imagine I’ll be an old man before the forest will have truly recovered. Except the eye of course. That one’s forever.”

Alan cocked his head examining Silas’s face. “That’s alright, it suits you--makes you look interesting.”

“I suppose interesting isn’t too bad.”

“No, it’s very good,” Alan assured him.

Despite his assumption he found they did in fact have a chance to slip away, as they used to. Quietly they slid through a side door and into the dark garden. 

“Come on, I want to see the roses. Remember when we used to do this?” Alan led him through the labyrinthine pathways towards the rose garden he’d often brought Silas to when they had been younger.

“Yes.” 

“I love roses.” Alan knelt down to admire a pale pink blossom. 

“I remember. You’ve always loved beautiful things. Every time I came you’d have something to show off.”

“I did so want to impress you back then.”

“Why on earth would you have wanted to impress me?” Silas asked.

Alan shrugged. “You always seemed so grown-up, I suppose. I wanted you to think I was as interesting and worldly as I thought you to be. I’m not sure why I thought showing off a pretty flower would accomplish that.”

“I enjoyed it,” Silas said. “I don’t know that it made me think you were worldly, but I certainly thought you were very sophisticated.”

“Well, that’s something at least.” Alan sighed, straightening.”Unfortunately we aren’t children anymore and there is more work to be done, so we can’t stay very long. I don’t think we can get The White to commit anything to the war effort but I think we should be able to convince them to reduce tariffs, at least temporarily, to help the resumption of normal trade.”

“Alan,” Silas started and then paused unsure of what he was trying to ask. “Your mother said you were the one to insist on the marriage,” he finally settled on. 

“Oh, yes.” Alan confirmed.

“Why?”

“Sometimes I don’t think you appreciate me enough,” Alan shook his head with a humorless half smile. “I insisted because her terms were uneven and unfair and you were going to accept them because you were desperate and terrible at negotiation. You’re too straight forward for it. I knew if I was with you I could make sure you’d never be forced to accept such terms again. It would be a fair trade then. You would get me and the military aid you needed and my mother would get her trade deals and her high interest loans. Everyone wins.”

“Except you.”

“I think I did alright.”

“You could have had anyone. Someone you actually loved. Someone-”

“I could have found a match that would be more beneficial to my Mother perhaps.” Alan interrupts. “There were certainly enough kings and queens asking for my hand to seal whatever deal they’d signed with her. And yes I know she wouldn’t make me marry anyone I didn’t want to, but I wasn’t going to be allowed to marry just anyone either. So I thought if I was going to be married for a political purpose anyways, the kind young man who’d let me prattle on about roses and tapestries all those years would be nice. And I wasn’t wrong. You have been very good to me. I have wanted for nothing in your home. Even if my presence caused an issue with whomever you’d chosen before I’d forced myself onto you, you never took any frustration out on me and I like to think my value as a pawn has made up for that.”

“Whomever I’d chosen?” Silas had stopped following at that point.

“I applaud your discretion. I haven't been able to discover their identity despite all attempts. Getting this sort of gossip is something I’m usually very good at, so you should be proud.”

“I- What are you- there isn’t anyone.” Silas replied, confused.

“But you said, on our wedding night-”

“I said _you_ were free to have anyone you wanted.”

“I assumed you expected the same courtesy to be extended.”

“No, I just...I didn’t want you to feel trapped with me.”

“I see.” Alan stepped closer, close enough that they could touch if he wanted. “Well then, if there is no one for you and there is no one for me, perhaps we could…” he placed his hand on Silas's shoulder almost exactly where he had placed it all those months ago when they had first been married. 

“You don’t have to, I don’t expect-” Silas says, because he needed to say it, but he didn’t step out of the range of Alan’s hand.

“Yes, you’ve made that very clear and if you don’t _want_ me that is fine. But do remember I chose you, and I want to be yours, however you’ll have me.”

Silas reached out to touch Alan’s face, to feel the soft give of another person’s skin and the hard curve of bones underneath. Alan’s lips gave against the gentle pressure of Silas's mouth. It had been a very long time since Silas had kissed anyone and he was not entirely sure he remembered how, but Alan made a quiet approving noise and pressed back. They kissed among the roses that Alan loved so much. It was Alan who broke their kiss, turning his face away and placed a hand on Silas's chest to hold him still. 

“As much as I am enjoying this, we really do have work that needs to be done. We can continue this later,” Alan paused, biting his lip for a moment before concluding with an almost questioning turn to his voice, “darling.”

Silas leaned in for one more kiss. “Later, my love.”


End file.
